A Dream's Promise
by Applescruffs
Summary: One-shot BV. Vegeta is on a rescue mission to save Bulma, but all is not what it seems. Rated for a spot of violence, nothing too bad. Just don't want to traumatize the kiddies.


**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Not Bulma, not Vegeta, and, sadly, not Goten. weeps Not that Goten's in this story- it is a BV, after all- I just wish I owned him. No such luck, so don't sue me. 

**A/N**: I wrote this story forever and a day ago. It is, in fact, my very first completed fanfic, so go easy on me. I had just gotten into DBZ, and Bulma and Vegeta were my favorite couple. A friend of mine who read this for me said it was a bit cheesy and OOC, so… let me know what you think. I admit that Vegeta _is_ slightly OOC, but for good reason. You'll see what I mean…

His hands balled up into tight fists, Vegeta surveyed the building before him. He could easily demolish the whole thing, killing the monster within instantly. But that would defeat the purpose of his coming by destroying what he most wanted to protect. The only movement was the wind stirring up the dust at his feet. He gazed steadily at the door of the ornate shrine, his anger increasing exponentially with each passing second. Still he waited.

After what seemed an eternity, the door creaked open. Every muscle in Vegeta's body tensed, uncertain of what would come, and he prepared to spring. The setting sun cast an eerie red glow on the emerging figures. The first was a woman, her blue hair mussed and hanging in her eyes. Large bruises were visible on her arms and neck. A single cut above her left eye was still bleeding down the side of her face. The sight of his mate, battered and abused, sickened Vegeta. _That monster will pay for daring to lay a hand on her_, he thought, rage pumping quickly throughout his body. He watched silently as a man followed Bulma out of the shrine, his face obscured by a black hood. He held on to her by the back of her neck, his large hand almost encircling it as he forced her forward. _That's the monster_, Vegeta thought grimly. He decided to attack now and spare his mate any further injury.

As though he knew what his adversary had planned, the hooded man pulled Bulma directly in front of him. It would be impossible to hit him without killing her first. His left hand tightened its grip on her slender neck, making her struggle for each breath. Oh yes, he would pay.

"Are you really so weak that you have to use my woman as a shield?" Vegeta spat, barely able to contain the burning rage threatening to spill forth. He was answered by a cold chuckle.

"Mmm, I see your point," said the monster from within the dark recesses of the hood. His deep voice was so terribly cold, like ice that burned a hole through you. It was like frozen acid. "I wouldn't want you to think I was weak. What a shame, it seems that 'your woman' is of no use to me now."

A wave of relief washed over Vegeta. She was safe, and he would make sure that foul animal suffered dearly for harming her. But something was wrong. Bulma let out a strangled cry, her eyes wide with pain. But why? That monster had just removed his hand from her neck. It was then that he noticed something metallic on the abdomen of the simple white sheath she wore. A patch of scarlet bloomed around the metal point. He gasped as he realized what was happening.

"No…" he whispered. "No."

The monster bent his right wrist downward, lowering his saber. Vegeta stood there, transfixed by the horror he was witnessing. He watched helplessly as Bulma slowly slid off the end of the sword and landed facedown on the hard ground. He fell to his knees, completely incapable of coping with the sight that faced him. The crimson dirt surrounding his mate glittered in the day's last remnants of light. Vegeta crawled to her side, gently turned her over and cradled her in his arms. She smiled weakly and reached up to touch his face.

This was too much for Vegeta. His body was wracked with anguished sobs. His pride and anger lay forgotten in the dust as he was consumed by an overwhelming sorrow. The thought of losing her was appalling. Scenes from their many years together flashed through his mind: Bulma with the dragonradar; kicking Oolong across the room; laughing at Bra's tenth birthday party; burning everything she tried to cook; working on a new invention; holding baby Trunks; yelling at him for starting a fight with Kakkarot; smiling mischievously at him from her pillow. This couldn't be happening- he needed her. She meant more to him than anything.

"Vegeta." He looked down into her pale, dirt-smudged face. "I just want… one thing." Her breathing was shallow, and she knew she didn't have long. "Promise… promise me that… you love me… That all those… years meant as much… to you as they… did to me. Promise." But there was so much more he wanted her to know. He wanted to say the words he had so much trouble with, those three words he always refused to say. He wanted to tell her how cute she was when she fell asleep on the couch, that she looked beautiful when she woke up in the morning, that his knees went weak when she pouted at him, that she could make him melt with the slightest touch. That he belonged to her. That she was his one and only. He opened his mouth to express the emotions he didn't know he was capable of feeling until he met her.

She was gone. Before he had the chance to tell her anything, he sensed her ki fade away. That vibrant spirit and fiery temper had been stolen from his arms as he struggled with the words he should have said every day. And now it was too late. There were no words to express his agony. He howled in pain as he felt his heart shatter. He didn't know how he could face living without her now.

"Woman… please, Bulma…" Vegeta whimpered. His tears rained down on her face, washing away the dirt. "Don't leave me." He was hit with a fear like none he'd ever experienced, the fear of being alone. Without her, he was nothing. She was his soul, his reason for being. He lived for her. There was nothing left for him. Still holding the lifeless body of his beloved, he waited for death to take him. He wanted nothing more than to die, to be released from his pain, to be with her.

"She was your weakness, you know," came the coldly acidic voice. "It's your own fault." Under normal circumstances, Vegeta would have killed anyone for daring to speak to him that way, but he was a broken man. He had been stripped of every emotion but grief. He looked up at the fiend who had destroyed him. The hood had been pushed back, and Vegeta was surprised to see himself standing over him. Then he understood. It _was_ his fault. No matter how you looked at it, he had killed Bulma. First, he failed to protect her, then he hesitated to save her, and finally he sat idly and watched her die. He was the instrument of her death as surely as if he had held the sword in his own hand. This knowledge was the fatal blow to his already fragile state of mind.

"I KILLED HER!"

Vegeta sat up, panting and covered in sweat. How could he have let that happen? Now he was alone, and it was his own fault. _Why didn't I kill him? What's the matter with me? How can I be so weak?_ He felt sick; as he turned his head, his eyes widened in surprise. His mate lay beside him, sleeping peacefully. Had it been a dream? He shook his head. No, his memories were too vivid. Gods, she was so beautiful. If she was a weakness, she was one he never wanted to be rid of. He reached out, his hand hovering over the body he knew so well. He didn't dare touch her for fear that she was a figment of his tortured mind, and he knew that it would kill him to lose her again. The heat emanating from her felt real enough. Cautiously, he lowered his hand to her hip. She was really there. Bulma was alive, and she was with him.

Sighing, he rested his head on his knees. Even though he knew now that it had been nothing more than a nightmare, he couldn't stop shaking. The feelings of fear, loneliness, and guilt still clung to him. Never in his life had he felt so helpless, unable even to fight. What kind of Saiyan couldn't even put up a fight? And he had a terrible stomachache, thanks to the dream, no doubt.

"Vegeta?" His head snapped up at the sound of her voice. Had he woken her? Bulma was looking at him, her blue eyes full of concern. She'd never seen him like this. "You're shaking. Are you OK?" No, he wasn't OK.

"I'm fine, woman," he snapped. The act didn't fool either of them. Sitting up, she leaned back against the headboard and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. Gently, she pulled him to her. Grateful for the gesture, Vegeta rested his head on her chest. With a smile, Bulma started to run her fingers through his thick black hair, wondering how many times he had comforted her this way. She was glad to be able to help him through whatever had him so upset. Lowering her head, she kissed the back of his neck. _It's times like these I forget what a jerk he is_, she thought sleepily. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he delighted in her scent and the feel of her breath dancing along his skin. Now. Now was the time to tell her. It would be the bravest thing he'd ever done. He took a deep breath.

"Bulma," he began, his deep voice unusually tender. "I've always assumed that you knew my feelings, but I want you to hear, in my own words, exactly…" He trailed off as he noticed that her breathing had slowed back to her normal sleeping pattern. He growled. "Dammit, woman. You _would_ have to fall asleep when I'm trying to tell you something important. No matter. I'll tell you in the morning." He smirked. "And then I'll _show_ you."

Listening to the rhythmic beating of his mate's heart, he was soon lulled back to sleep. But just before he drifted into a peaceful slumber, Vegeta whispered, "I promise."

**A/N**: Well, I hope you enjoyed this. It took me the _longest_ time to write! But you see what I mean about the OOCness being justified? I'll clarify, since my friend didn't get it: it was a nightmare. That's how he was afraid of acting in a crisis. He'd probably have killed the guy in two seconds flat. All right then, please R&R!


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